Mis Niños

The other significant aspect of my trip of course was the relationship I formed with my students. I was assigned to teach five classes in five different levels of English, and in each of my classes I was able to bond with my students. It was trying, frustrating, and exhausting to teach every day, but it was the most fulfilling and rewarding work I've ever done.
The first class I taught was on January 3, mere days after arriving in Tehuacan. I was exhausted and overwhelmed and I was terrified to teach. My first class was a seventh grade class with seven twelve-year-olds. I had little to no experience with Tweens and I was truly afraid of being eaten alive. I need not have feared, though. My children welcomed me immediately. They fell over themselves telling me all about themselves, their lives and their families. By the end of the first day I knew their stories and their secrets and I was already well on my way to loving them all. Over the next four months, they challenged me and they questioned everything. They made me laugh and they made me cry more than once. From my seventh graders I learned humility and grace, and how to survive an earthquake. It truly broke my heart to say goodbye.
I love today's picture because it was from one of those extremely rare perfect days. After two difficult and (to be honest) boring days of struggling to understand the perfect tenses of verbs, I decided to reward my kids with some downtime. We went out onto the grass and I read The Little Prince out loud while they listened for adjectives and uses of the past perfect, present perfect, or future perfect. It was exciting to see them correctly identifying the verbs, and touching to see them so engrossed in my favorite story.

Nostromo was Languishing...

Over the last several months, I would be hard pressed to say which has languished more, this blog or my reading project.  I started this blog to accompany my reading project--to document my thoughts, my reactions, and, ultimately, my review of each novel as I finished it.  After I accepted my position with the school in Mexico, I decided to partially hijack my own blog, dedicating it to my reading project and to my experiences teaching English as a Foreign Language in Tehuacan.  Despite a few attempts at both over the last year or so, though, it is safe to say that in this effort I have failed.

As my days in the U.S. grow fewer, however, I feel a renewed urgency to resume both, so this is my attempt.

Nostromo

To say that I have struggled with Nostromo would be something of an understatement.  I have enjoyed it at times; Conrad can write with such descriptive clarity and philosophical insight that his prose is striking and memorable.  The difficulty, for me, has been the sheer number of details to keep straight.  Nostromo is so heavily peopled with characters both major and minor, and so peppered with detail and description, that it is often hard to keep straight what exactly is going on.  This was made no less difficult by the fact that while in Tehuacan, I was only really able to read in snippets.  On the average day, I was able to steal an hour or so between classes to read, but even then I was fighting to focus.  In my last post I wrote about the magic of reading Nostromo in the paradise of Puerto Escondido, and it truly was magical to hear the rise and fall of the waves and a foreign tongue in the background (as opposed to children chanting “Who Stole the Cookies from the Cookie Jar,” or my roommate’s adult class engaged in a rather rude game of Charades).  Had I been able to stay hidden away from the world on that magical beach, swaying on a suspended mattress under the shade of palm trees, I suspect that I may have finished the novel more quickly.  

Whenever I was able to dedicate myself to the novel, though, I found myself enjoying it.  I’m nearing the finish line (less than a hundred pages to go) and finally I feel invested in the plot, and I am beginning to understand the major characters, their pasts, and their motivations as we move into the climax and denouement.  And as soon as I finish, I will happily write more.

Mexico

From left to right: Daniel, me, Joe,
Brittany and Caroline.  Standing in front of the
Catedral de Puebla in Puebla, the capital city
of the state of Puebla, about an hour an a half
 north of Tehuacan.

I have similarly struggled with writing about Mexico since leaving.  When I was in Mexico, writing about it was difficult for the plain fact that I rarely stopped moving and working long enough to really write anything of substance about my experience.  Now that I am back, however, I have been struck with a severe case of writers’ block.  In the film Mean Girls, Lindsay Lohan’s character suffers from what she terms word vomit.  She is so singularly focused on her quest to destroy her nemesis, Regina George, that she can barely stop herself from talking about Regina nonstop.  Lohan’s character impatiently waits and constantly hopes that someone will even offhandedly mention Regina in conversation so that she can talk and talk some more.  While I am not seeking to destroy a frenemy, I, too, suffer from a sort of word vomit.  I wait and hope that someone will mention Mexico so that I can tell some story or other about Mexico and my adventures.  At any hint of an opportunity I will launch into story after story until someone literally stops me.  When I sit down to write about it, however, the words fail.

I’m preparing to move to Warsaw, though, and as I sort, organize, and pack (and, more importantly, finally unpack from Mexico), I feel the need to write about my time in Tehuacan before I embark on my next adventure.  To this end, for the next three weeks I intend to post a picture every day with an accompanying story.

On our way to our first party.  This was
also the first time we'd ever crammed
this many people into this small a car...

I know of no better way to start than with the people who made my experience what it was: my roommates.  My roommates were my everything while I was in Mexico—they were my friends, my family, my constant companions.  They were the ones to whom I turned with frustrations, successes, failures, and everything in between, and they challenged me to try new things, and to grow and expand my horizons in new ways.  I met Daniel in Mexico City International Airport, bonding over vino as the stress of airline travel slowly ebbed, and I met Joe at our hotel the next morning as we embarked on a daylong odyssey from our hotel in Mexico City to our much anticipated apartment in Tehuacan.  I met Brittany and Caroline the next day as they disembarked from the bus (and an exhausting travel experience that matched our own).  On the first day we all met, we locked ourselves out of our apartment and had to boost Joe and Caroline over a six-foot wall to balance-beam-walk across two walls, scale the roof, jump catlike onto a nearby tree and enlist our neighbors to help us break into our own apartment.  In the days that followed, we explored, watched late-night movies, and drank many many beers.  We conquered faulty hot water heaters, lit frighteningly volatile stove pilots, cooked experimental meals, and lived for days without electricity and running water.  After four or so days of no running water (though it was January, it was Mexico, so the afternoons were still quite warm and, to put it mildly, we stank) in desperation, Brittany and I scooped water from the well, and, equipped with a bucket of shockingly cold water and a pitcher, we washed each other’s hair.  I laughed, cried, and fought with these people, and when we each left Mexico, it was with the promise that someday soon we would all return.  I for one cannot wait.

I love this picture because it is so very descriptive of our group:  Caroline,
Brittany, and I have probably had too much to drink, Daniel is looking adorable,
and Joe is in the background mocking us all.

Reading Nostromo in Paradise

Despite my noticeable lack of book related posts in the last few months, I am actually still working my way through my list of novels. Or, at least, I am trying. Most afternoons I sneak in an hour or so as I wait for classes to resume in the afternoons (after siesta). However, in this week, la Semana Santa, I am indulging in blissful hours of reading in the sun and sand, undisturbed by children, students, teachers, or other administrative demands that come with being a teacher at a busy but small school.
As it sit in my beach chair, I can hear the sound of the waves crashing against the rocks on either side of our beach and the wind rustling through the palm trees. In one ear I have Bach's Prelude to Cello Suite No. 1. These factors, when combined with the now rising action of my book, Joseph Conrad's Nostromo (romance, rebellion, and the hint of betrayal), work to create a heightened sense of drama and intensity. At any moment I almost expect to see eighteenth century ships coast into this secluded cove. I can almost hear the distant hoof beats and the cries of men as they work to load the ships with carts of silver. I expect to see Nostromo himself, el capataz de Los cargadores, riding up on his impressive steed to oversee all activity with his stern and all-knowing eyes. I imagine that this is the ideal way to read this novel, and I can't imagine enjoying it more in any other setting.

Top Ten

The last several weeks have been so filled with work, study, and experience that I've found it difficult to synthesize everything, to boil all my new experiences down into an entertaining series of brilliantly-worded, charming, or otherwise amusing posts updating friends and family on my life in Mexico. My experiences have run from the comical (see my posts on transportation) to the humbling (pyramids and volcanoes will do that to one) to the slightly sketchy (a bikini wax in a dank room with a woman who doesn't speak English, lying on a cot staring up at what I swear was a penis-shaped watermark on the ceiling as a stranger rips my hair out by the root) to the just plain crazy (singing "Imagine" in the Zócalo, or main plaza, in Puebla with a Mexican Beatles cover band--complete with Beatles haircuts--or dancing until 3am in a rhumba club with a party of lesbians, or countless other moments that, when recounted, sound fictional or, at the very least, greatly embellished). Anyway, over the past week, I have cobbled together a list of ten of my favorite experiences thus far:
10. Surviving the Combi.
I've written about the Combi already--pimped out vans that operate as some mix between a taxi and a bus and driving through the streets of Mexico like a bat outta hell.  Each Combi has a number on it to identify its route, and it has a list of popular destinations, like the mall and the major grocery stores.  Combi routes are not published, though, or adequately advertised, so you have to either know someone who knows which Combi route to take to get somewhere, or you have to learn through experience.  I've done a fair share of the latter.  We got on a Combi that was just finishing its route, so we rode to Headquarters, where we then switched vans for a new driver and proceeded to drive through back alleys and dirt roads to the Centro, or main marketplace of Tehuacan, battling Mexican traffic (pedestrian and motorized).  That particular trip is usually a nine minute ride, but because we caught the Combi at the wrong time, it took 45 minutes; we could have walked there faster.  On another occasion, we got on a Combi that had to pass through the mercado del Purisima, or the major covered market.  On Saturdays Purisima is a popular destination, and to pass through, Combis must enter a slow-moving line that inches forward for two or three blocks before entering the Centro to inch forward through busy Saturday traffic (complete with honking horns, yelling people, and angrily flapping chickens).  This particular trip should have taken less than five minutes, but took about half an hour.  We weren't in any sort of hurry, but it was fairly painful to be in an un-airconditioned van in the middle of an eighty-degree day in Mexico.  Nevertheless, it makes for a great Combi story (which everyone must have) and adds to my personal pride in having survived this singular mode of transportation.
9. Sunshine:
This is silly and shallow and it contributes to my chances of developing skin cancer, but I cannot help it.  After over twenty years with cold, dreary, depressing winters full of snow, ice, and overcast skies, I can't help but absolutely delight in every blissfully warm day here.  I positively revel in every drop of sunshine.  Each report of snow, ice, frost, etc. makes me more and more convinced that I'll never spend another winter in the Pacific Northwest again.
8. Self Progress:
When I started this blog, just over a year ago, I was searching for...something.  I felt like an experimental recipe that isn't quite right--something was missing but I just couldn't put my finger on what it was.  Here in Tehuacan I am still searching, but I feel more complete somehow.  To continue the analogy, I've added some spice to the recipe (maybe some chili or canela) and am closer to finding that missing ingredient.
7. The Novelty of Being Foreign:
I am what I like to call “ambiguously ethnic”. My hair and skin tone hint at a Latin background, but with my mother's fair features showing a more dominant presence over the years (lighter eyes, freckles, auburn highlights in my hair, etc.) my heritage is not obvious.  In Mexico this ambiguity makes me something of a question mark.  I'm not as distinctly foreign as my roommates with their blond hair and fair skin, but nor do I look as though I am native to the area.  When I speak, of course, I instantly mark myself as foreign, as English is not generally spoken in Tehuacan, and my Spanish still has a decidedly Italian pronunciation.  As I've said before, Tehuacan is not a popular tourist destination, so foreigners are a rare sight.  Because my group of friends includes several blondes with fair skin and light eyes, we are subject to a lot of curious glances and outright stares.  While this can be annoying and uncomfortable, it has also had its benefits.  At a local fish restaurant, we were approached by the owner (who spoke English) and we're told about house specialties that weren't listed on the menu. (sidenote: we tried the specialty he recommended, a full fish rubbed with spices and grilled over a charcoal fire and served with fresh corn tortillas. Amazing.)  We have also been taken care of as the hapless tourists that we are.  During our first trip to Puebla and Cholula, it quickly became apparent that we didn't know where to go to see the great pyramid in Cholula, but fortunately the passengers and the bus driver decided to take care of us, alerting us to our stop and directing us where to go.  We are also treated as celebrities from time to time.  Because foreigners are less common in Tehuacan, we are something of a novelty.  Our night at one of the local dance clubs was peppered with requests for photos so the club could post pics of the Americans and Brits dancing in the club.  Each picture earned a round of free drinks, and the evening ended with a VIP card treating us to 50 percent off all future nights.  If this is how the real celebs party in LA and Vegas, I can see the allure.
6. History: 
While I don't consider myself an historian, I am a huge history nerd and, for me, it is an absolute thrill to be surrounded by history.  I love old buildings, art and culture, and practically get a contact high when I visit historic sites.  I love Idaho and Oregon, and to be fair, there are some very cool sites along the Oregon Trail in the areas in which I have lived, but it isn't enough for me.  I have always preferred the East Coast for my American history; Colonial Williamsburg and Monticello are about as close to my idea of American History Mecca as I can think of.  But I have always bemoaned my country’s lack of historical sites.  I delight, therefore, in the fact that the city of Tehuacan is currently celebrating the anniversary of its independence from Spain, which was purchased in 1660.  On an almost daily basis, I walk past buildings that date back to the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries.  To put this into perspective, my own beloved hometown of Blackfoot just recently celebrated it's centennial....  And Tehuacan is merely the tip of the iceberg, paling in comparison to Puebla and Cholula.  When I visit Puebla this weekend, I'll be staying in a hotel whose architecture dates back to  the mid-sixteenth century and I'll be visiting the pyramids in Cholula, whose origins reach back to the third century. It is a truly incredible experience to wander among artifacts older than the common era and taste foods and drinks that are prepared today in the exact same way that they’ve been prepared for centuries.  When I was in grad school, I studied history, but in Mexico I have had the opportunity to see history, to touch, smell, and taste it.
5. Food in General:
As I no doubt made obvious in my earlier post, I am loving the food in Mexico.  I’ve had dishes that originated in my own state of Puebla, like Poblano mole (Poblano means ”from Puebla”) and cemitas, a huge sandwich served on a round roll with avocado, carne arabe, and mucho mucho quesillo.  I've had typical Mexican fare, like tacos and tostadas, tamales, and real enchiladas.  And I've had odd combinations of food, like yesterday's meal: cooked corn mixed with mayonnaise, chili, and queso, purchased from a woman from a neighboring pueblito, in town for the month’s cultural festival.  I've even sampled some of the local drink options, ranging from the traditional (the original chocolate drink, a foamy chocolate drink with hints of vainilla y canela, made in the same fashion now as it has been made for centuries) to to popular (like micheladas, a drink I'd had before in college--beer with clamato and lime--but in Tehuacan they add fruit favors like piña or tamarindo...not my favorite, but still drinkable), and the truly strange (also known as a camarina, beer with clamato, chile, and other salty spices, with shrimp thrown in for truly odd effect.  It's disturbingly tasty.)  I have, I admit, refrained from some delicacies, like mole de panza (cooked goat's stomach served in a red broth and reputedly tasting as horrendous as it sounds) or chapolines, dehydrated crickets doused in spices and salt and reportedly quite similar to chicken or popcorn.  On the whole, though, I am loving the cuisine and the regular adventure of ordering from a foreign menu and never being entirely sure what I'll be getting.  And as much as I entirely despise it, I'm afraid I'll become one of those people who, having traveled abroad, comes back to the States as something of a food snob.  
4. Fresh Produce:
This is embarrassing to admit, particularly after spending three years in the locavore’s haven that is Eugene, but I've never really cared all that much for fresh produce.  Don't get me wrong, I do adore fresh basil and mozzarella on a grilled pizza, and fresh strawberries from the farm is one of my favorite aspects of being at home in the summers, but I've never really actively sought out fresh produce at the grocery store.  Here in Tehuacan, though, I've had to change and adapt my tastes.  Our apartment doesn't have an oven (it blew up last semester. Really.) and our gas stove has two settings--hot and burning hot--so cooking is an adventure to say the least.  Add to that the fact that our kitchen contains two frying pans, two sauce pots, and a bottle of ketchup, and we found ourselves loathe to cook.  As I've written before, we spent our first few weeks at Abraham’s indulging in Argentine chorizo quesadillas and chiztorro cemitas.  For the past few weeks, though, we've had Spring Break in mind and thus decided that cooking our meals was both less expensive and less fattening.  Enter: Fruit Lady.  Sadly, we don't actually know her name, but she operates a fruit and vegetable stand next to Abraham’s.  She carries a fairly wide range of fresh produce for impossibly low prices.  This evening I bought two bananas and five aguacates (avocados) for 18 pesos.  Our apartment is rarely (if ever) without fresh avocados, limes, and bananas.  We have also come to fully embrace the nearby panaderia, or bakery.  Less than a block away, the bakery carries a delightful assortment of breads, rolls, muffins and other pastries.  Yesterday morning I bought six (fresh from the oven) croissants, a doughnut, and a flaky custard-filled pastry for 23 pesos.  I now live for my morning coffee and banana, my afternoon yoghurt with banana and pastry, and my vegetarian dinners (tonight's was corn tortillas with fresh guacamole, rice, and stir fried bell peppers, tomatillos, zucchini, and spinach. In other words, amazingness).  I cringe at the thought of going back to the States, where I'll pay a dollar for one avocado.
3. Remembering that I'm in Mexico.
Because so much of my day is spent in daily routine, I have absorbed and processed many of my daily interactions and daily occurrences.  They are so familiar at this point that they no longer seem foreign to me.  So it isn't until I do something out of the norm that I actually stop and realize, ”Oh holy #*%*! I'm in MEXICO.”  This has happened several times, but each time it does, I feel this rush of emotions--the cold of shock, the warmth of happiness, and the thrill of adventure--and I marvel anew at the fact that not only am I IN a foreign country, but I'm living and thriving in said country.  It's a pretty awesome experience (awesome in its true definition, meaning that it fills me with awe each time) and I feel fortunate that even after three months of living in Mexico, I can still feel the same excitement I had when I first arrived. 
2. Becoming acquainted with Mexican custom and culture:
One of the main reasons I wanted to teach abroad (instead of just traveling for an extended period of time) was that I wanted to spend a significant amount of time in one place so that I could absorb as much culture as possible.  I wanted to learn the language, but also really experience life in a foreign country, not just glimpses as I toured site after site.  In Tehuacan, I must practice my Spanish every day just to survive and operate on a daily basis.  Making my way from the junior high (where I teach in the mornings) to Heslington (where I teach in the early evenings) requires me to hail a Combi and effectively communicate with the driver.  It's not exactly a riveting conversation about the state of world affairs or the strength of the global economy, but it feels like a victory each time I successfully travel from Point A to Point B.  better than that, though, is the ability to embrace aspects of Mexican culture.  I say hello and goodbye to friends and students with a kiss to the right cheek, just like a real Mexican.  And when I enter a Combi, I greet my fellow passengers with a ”buenas tardes” like the best of them.  I still attract attention when I walk through the city streets because I am a foreigner in a very homogenous population, but I have also earned an approving nod and ”buenos dias” from many of the local shopkeepers I pass each morning.  These may seem like small things, but to me they are brilliant signs of acceptance and an indication that I am accomplishing my goal here.
1.Teaching:
 When I signed up to teach English, I did so primarily because I wanted change and adventure.  I wanted to learn and experience new things.  I expected to try new foods and local delicacies, to learn a new language, and to step outside of my comfort zone.  I thought that the greatest moments would be atop ancient pyramids or reveling in some Mexican city, but I was wrong.  One of the greatest experiences I have had is the opportunity to witness a student learn and comprehend.  When I present a new idea, concept, or word, I watch my students to gauge their understanding.  At first there's confusion and doubt as they struggle to understand what I'm saying and begin to second guess themselves.  After that comes the look of determination, a look that says, ”I will conquer this.”. Finally is the truly beautiful glow that comes with comprehension.  The shoulders lift, the spine straightens, and the smile that follows is almost magical.  After hours of struggling and frustration, that moment is both reward and motivation to keep going, both for my students and for me.  It's humbling and inspiring and addictive. 

Adapting to Life in Tehuacan

So I must start this post with an apology.  In the months preceding my move back to Idaho, and my subsequent sojourn into teaching ESL, my laptop of three years started a systematic shutdown.  The screen, which had been immobile for over a year, lost a screw and was only held together by a small binder clip; the internal cooling fan began malfunctioning; and the wi-fi worked sporadically at best.  Fortunately, my parents decided to give me a new computer for Christmas.  Together we agreed on an iPad2 and, given my laptops shortcomings, I opted to bring only the iPad to Mexico.  For my day-to-day business, the iPad is perfect; I can show short movie clips, play songs, and consult my online dictionary quickly and effectively.  It also allows me to Skype easily with friends and family. In short, I'm in love with it.  For some reason, though, I cannot upload photos to my blog from my iPad.  So, while I promised pictures on this blog, and, quite frankly, I abhor the look of pages and pages of solo type (it reminds me too much of my all-too-recent stint in grad school), I'm afraid I cannot keep my promise.  Fortunately, though, my friends upload pictures with regularity, so Facebook is routinely updated with the latest photos of our adventures and mishaps.  Also, my friend and comrade-in-arms, Betsy, maintains a wonderful blog which I recommend. Betsy's blog, Livin La Vida Loca, can be found here. So I apologize for the lack of color and life on my blog for the next few months.

And now for an update.  In the past month, I have settled into life in Tehuacan and into my life as “Teacher.”
1. I started private Spanish lessons and am doing fairly well thus far.  I embarrass myself almost daily, but I'm learning.  Most effective are the situations where no one is there to translate and I am left to fend for myself in conversation.  The owner of our neighborhood fruit stand is even helping me with the names of produce.  This all makes me admire my students' progress in a foreign language so much more. 

2. I am becoming a transportation pro.  In Mexico walking is a demanding activity, requiring simultaneous awareness of the sidewalks’ cracks/dips/rises/etc. and the flow of traffic (pedestrian, cyclist, and motorist on both sidewalk and street), all the while maintaining a general idea of direction.  As I learned in Italy, stop signs and speed limits are merely suggestions; cars only stop at a stop sign if a car is entering the intersection from the crossing road, and vehicles fly by at frightening speeds, paying little to no regard to crossing pedestrians.  
Buses in Mexico are quite different than the organized and well-managed buses I knew in Oregon.  Regular buses here drive at harrowing speeds and do not stop at predetermined stops.  A passenger must hail the bus, pay whenever it's convenient, and keep a vigilant eye out for her stop.  To escape (or exit), the passenger must stand up approximately one block before the desired stop, run to the front of the bus, and request to be let off at the corner (“batman in la esquina, por favor”).  This works to varying degrees, depending on the day, traffic, and the driver’s mood.  The other mode of public transport is a combi, a glorified van outfitted to cram in as many passengers as possible.  Like buses, combos are hailed and require constant vigilance because the combis do not have set routes and may not always take the passenger to her desired destination.  Surviving a combi ride is generally an accomplishment and a mark of pride.  
Finally there are taxis, which only differ from their American cousins in capacity limitations.  Saturday night we squeezed five people into the backseat of a compact car with a sixth in the front seat next to the cab driver.  The drive was cramped (and a bit stinky), but deemed a success all around.  I am proud to announce that not only have I survived each mode of transportation, but I've even schooled some of my friends in the art of bus and combi riding.  Next up: how to determine the best menu items.

3. I have passed as a local at least once.  A little girl heard my roommate and I talking and shyly asked where I had learned English.  She seemed surprised when I answered “en los estados unidos” and that I was, in fact, American.  Since then, I have so casually said “buenas tardes” and “hasta luego” to my fellow combi riders after requesting to exit that I think I passed as a local.  This delights me as I am working to drop my American/Italian pronunciation of my new Spanish vocabulary.

My friends and I went to Puebla, the capitol city of the state of Puebla, the state I'm living in.  I will be posting a full description of our trip soon!

Abraham's: Our Home Away From Home

Nestled in the Valley of Tehuacan, the city of Tehuacan is a large city with the feel of a small town.  With a population of almost a quarter of a million citizens, Tehuacan is the second largest city in the Mexican state of Puebla.  Like any city, Tehuacan has large stores and supermarkets, as well as restaurants and cafés.  One of our usual cafés is La Lonja in the town center because it has open seating on the patio and free wi-fi for its patrons.  Our favorite place to eat, though, is a small taqueria near our apartment.  We don't actually know the name of this stand,but it's run by a man named Abraham.  Abraham's is, essentially, a hole in the wall, just large enough for a flat grill and four small tables.  There is a tiny cooler in one corner for sodas and fruit juices, and if we want bottled water or una cerveza, he has to send out his assistant to purchase some at a nearby shop.  The food at Abraham's, though, is amazing.
We first met Abraham on our first morning in Tehuacan. We had gone out in search of a late breakfast and coffee, but, finding none, decided to try a small taqueria with a friendly proprietor.  From the very beginning, Abraham was open and engaging, delighted to talk to us.  Although it is the second largest city in Puebla, Tehuacan is not a popular tourist destination, particularly in January.  In the nearly two weeks since we've arrived, we are the only discernible outsiders I've noticed.  I think it's safe to say that, as a group, we stand out.  But Abraham immediately welcomed us and told us about beautiful sights to see, gardens to visit, and where to find the best seafood.  By the end of our first meal (a chorizo enchilada burrito with Abraham's super spicy red salsa), I adored this gravelly-voiced cook and his quiet assistant.
Since our first meal, we have returned almost nightly. After our second visit we were greeted as old friends and, before departing for the evening, we were told what the next night’s specialty would be.  By our third visit, we had stopped consulting the menu; instead, we walk in, chat for a moment, then ask what's good tonight.  In this way we have been to treated to some truly amazing meals that we might never have known to order on our own.
Our nightly fare so far:

Visits Number 1 and 2: Enchilada burrito.  We've learned that enchilada roughly means “in chili,” so an enchilada burrito is cooked with chilis, rather than the enchiladas with red or green sauce that are common in the United States.
Visit Number 3: Argentine Chorizo in a quesadilla; this was some of the most flavorful chorizo I had ever encountered before.
Visit Number 4: Burritos with local chorizo and meats, paired with Oaxaca cheese.  Oaxaca cheese is a local favorite and looks a bit like string cheese, but tastes ten times fresher and better.  I believe Abraham purchases his cheese from a local mercado, so it is incredibly fresh and, delightfully local.
Visit Number 5: Alambre.  Alambre is a popular dish in Tehuacan, much like a stir fry or fajitas, but with an emphasis on meats and cheese.  For the five of us, Abraham recommended two plates of alambre with a constant influx of flour tortillas.  We had local ham, chorizo, and beef delicately grilled with bell peppers, onions, and Oaxaca cheese melted on top.  It was accompanied by fresh avocado and tomato slices and wedges of lime, and by the end we were groaning with over-indulgence and pleasure.  As a final treat, Abraham made a small sample of “carne marinada,” beef grilled in pineapple juice, with grilled pineapple and Oaxaca cheese. Amazing.
Last night, after an absence of three days in which we fended for ourselves, we returned to have the Carne Marinada in burrito form.  Our general consensus is that Abraham outdoes himself each evening.

Since we have arrived we have made several friends within the institute and through students and host families.  Abraham’s is our first independent friendship.  His taqueria has a television, so as we eat, he often educates us on news items and cultural tidbits, such as La Dia de Reyes.  This is the day of the Three Kings, when we celebrate the Wise Men reaching the baby Jesus.  This is the day when children get their presents, rather than on Christmas.  La Dia de Reyes is also celebrated with a cake, Rosca de Reyes, which is a pastry/cake hybrid topped with candied fruits and has a small baby Jesus hidden within, much like a King Cake.  According to Abraham, whoever finds the baby must host the next party.  He also has internet, and as he tells us about the beaches we need to visit, he has his assistant pull up pictures for us to see and, last night, they looked up bus and plane ticket rates.
Sunday night, after a day of extensive lesson planning and more than a little frustration, we headed to Abraham’s seeking the comfort and warm welcome of friendship and food.  When we discovered that he was not there and that we would now have to fend for ourselves, we turned away like heartbroken children abandoned by papa.  Fortunately, though, Abraham was waiting for us last night, with rejuvenating beverages and the culinary delight that is carne marinada.  I may be speaking prematurely, but I expect that as we trek home tonight at 8:30, after a full day of teaching and prepping, we'll have a barely cursory consultation before heading to Abraham’s for dinner again.

Bienvenido a Mexico

In the months following my last post on Emma, I have attempted to write numerous times, only to be thwarted by numerous setbacks: my laptop finally stopped recognizing the Internet, so I literally could not post; I became so absorbed in Jeffrey Eugenides’ The Marriage Plot that I completely abandoned my latest novel, Conrad’s Nostromo; I was suddenly packing to move from Eugene back to Blackfoot and had no time to sit down and write a thoughtful post; I was so busy studying Spanish and reveling in the delights of being home that I didn't have time to write... The list could go on, but underneath each of these reasons or excuses was the plain truth that I am, for once, at a loss for words and have been since the day that I signed on to temporarily move to Mexico.
At first I intended to write about how exciting this new change would be, and how deliciously relevant my book choice was--Nostromo is not only set in a Spanish speaking country and full of Spanish-speaking characters, but the title character is Italian.  The novel itself blends South American history with Italian, peppering character dialogue with a curious mix of English, Spanish, and Italian.  After signing with the HELP! Organization, this intersection of cultures in my life and in my book seemed serendipitous to say the least.  Each time I sat down to write, though, words failed me and soon enough some excuse or distraction presented itself and off I went.
After I moved home, again I had ideas of filling my blog with pictures of home, of my sweet Carlee, of my new kitty friend Gracie, and all the beautiful elements that make my parents’ house such a wonderful escape.  But again there were distractions--Carlee, Gracie, and all those elements of home that needed attention one last time before I left for Mexico.  My blog languished as, again, the proper words seemed to fail me.
Now, however, I am in Mexico and my whole world is teeming with words.  Instead of struggling over what to write, I am trying to figure out how to fit the adventures of each day into a readable post.  I've been here less than a week and already I've made several new friends, tried more interesting dishes than ever before, and embarrassed myself on a regular basis and I'm loving it all.  I've seen cockroaches (live and dead), carried on (small) conversations in Spanish with some of the locals, befriended a waiter at a bar and the owner and cook of a delicious taqueria, and I've learned how to efficiently brush my teeth with bottled water.  Our apartment has been without power for over a day now, and our water stopped working this morning.  As I write this, one roommate is doing crosswords by candlelight while another is washing up via waterbottles and a teacup.  It seems like my companions and I have had an adventure dictated by Murphy’s Law thus far, but despite it all, I am nothing short of euphoric at the moment.
I could wax on longer over the amazing effects of this trip thus far, but suffice to say that this trip has been in no way what I expected, and for that I am grateful.  And I hope that, as this trip continues, I continue to be surprised by myself and by Mexico.